


The Pen Is Mightier

by Theatrhythm



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Bad Poetry, F/M, Gen, Poetry, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatrhythm/pseuds/Theatrhythm
Summary: He never understood writing the way she did, until she helped him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> long time no see hahahahahahahaha
> 
> whoops

"Leo," says Belladonna, "come here."

Leo shuffles towards his mother awkwardly, hesitantly, takes a seat on the edge of her canopy bed, and he lets her run her fingers through his short locks of hair. It took him a long time to recognize this as a sign of affection, but even at five years old, he knows what one of her rare summons entails: a request for something from his father.

It has happened more often as of late. Ever since they met the girl with the red eyes. _Sister_ , he called her on his father's command, and he could feel the tightening of his mother's grip on his shoulder when he did.

"Leo, I've written a letter to your father," she says, nails light against his scalp, meant to be soothing, he imagines. "A letter I want you to deliver to him."

Leo frowns as he meets her gaze. "Mother, why don't you use a courier?"

She smiles. "I am sending a message to your father."

"Yes, but-"

"Not as you think," she interrupts, withdrawing her hands before she smooths the shoulders of his tunic. "I want him to remember that you're my son, and I'm your mother."

"Do you think he forgot?" he asks, bewildered.

"No. Don't be silly," she says.

"Then why-"

"You have another older sister now, Leo. That makes you fourth in line for the throne. Less." Her smile grows tight. "I do not want you to be swept under the rug."

Leo can't recall feeling less of anything until now, really. His family has grown; Xander says he should be pleased at that, and why shouldn't he be? Corrin is nice to him. Lonely and shy, like Azura, and a bit isolated, but sweet when they have crossed paths.

Belladonna straightens his cravat. "Understand that with every new royal child, the more precarious your situation becomes," she says. "You are accustomed to a particular lifestyle under your father. You cannot afford to lose it. You must gain back the favor you have lost since the girl arrived."

He forgets, much of the time, that he is an extension of her. "What does the letter say, Mother?"

"That is not your concern."

"I don't want to deliver a threat," he says while drawing himself up, a little afraid, but also a little like his brother, he thinks proudly.

"It is not a threat." She hands him the roll of parchment, tied with ribbon and stamped with the royal seal. "The contents are irrelevant. The message, Leo, is what matters. Will you do this for me? Say yes."

"Yes, Mother." He stiffens when she squeezes his shoulder, gentle this time, but he hasn't forgotten the pinch of her nails, digging sharp into silk.

"Good. Be sure to deliver it while court members are present, but do not make a scene."

He hands the roll of parchment to Iago the next day during strategy talks, quietly sidling into the room, to his side, and murmuring the message on his mother's behalf. Iago unfurls the paper deftly and lets out a hearty chortle, before passing it off to Garon at his side. "A love letter from Lady Belladonna. How forward of her."

Leo blinks, stunned. A love letter.

His father smiles tightly, too, a mirror image of his mother, and hands the parchment back to Iago without reading it.

_The contents are irrelevant._

Leo can feel his chest constrict.

Even when a courier arrives at his mother's quarters with a satchel of coin, he doesn't want to admit that she was right.

* * *

 

The lessons with his Governess are _exhausting_. The fatigue isn't from the mental strain of six very slowly winding hours, nor the unrest that comes with being holed up with nothing but stern gazes and the crinkling of pages to punctuate the long stretches of silence.

No, Leo is _bored_. The tomes and texts on his syllabus are ones he has read in his leisure before bed, and the tactics exercises rudimentary compared to those he and Xander discussed over tea each afternoon.

Despite his distaste for the challengeless structure, he knows his father is proud of him for it. He excels at what he is given, and that is enough; Garon has never been one to expect more than he asks for. Falling short is the one thing he has to fear.

In turn, honeyed compliments from advisers and nobles are what fill Leo's hours when he isn't otherwise occupied with lessons or his siblings. They tell him how his reputation, his brilliance, and his cunning outshines any members of Garon's court, despite his age. The way he plays his cards so close to his chest, he'll rise in rank to serve at his father's side in no time at all. 

The years change his father. The proud gleam in his eye dulls, fogging like glass in a downpour, and impressing him becomes difficult despite his overall excellence.

Still. He has something to contribute, and that suffices. Leo is not so strong or brave or heroic like his older siblings, but, at least, he can serve. He doesn't need to curry favor, only to placate. He can follow commands. He can deliver results.

The years change him, too. Thick texts and cold orders served to and fro leaves him stiff as a writer. His penmanship is sharp, bold, precise, and his reports cut short uncompromising sentences, clear without room for misinterpretation. Mastering Brynhildr takes considerable effort, too, trying to coax power from a text written in what feels like incomprehensible code. He understand allegories and metaphors and their purpose in storytelling, but those _long reeling verses_ about forests never seem to end and he wonders, maddeningly, just _how_ many ways a person can say the word tree without actually _saying_ the word tree.

Mincing words feels trite and deceptive, in his experience; there is an _honesty_ in brevity, and he likes it. But when Elise asks him to help her write a _poem_ for Camilla's birthday, he can feel a slow, sinking inadequacy in the pit of his stomach.

He flatly redirects her to Odin. Better for her to clip from something overly flowery than from what he knows is barren.

* * *

 

Sakura, he later discovers, is something of a romantic.

It's unexpected, given her personality, her conversations so often filled with blushes and stammers at even the tamest of Niles' japes. _(Perhaps, he thinks, his own threshold towards his retainer's behavior needs some adjusting. It's not good to be so desensitised.)_

He thought he knew Sakura well enough until late - that she is sweetness and sincerity layered over stubbornness and strength not unlike that of her elder siblings. It gave him a cheeky sense of pride, unearthing the unlikely parts of her so many others would overlook.

But once the peace treaties between the three kingdoms are passed and signed, Leo realizes he doesn't _know_  Sakura. He has memorised the fumbling movements of her fingers on gauze, the curve of her neck as she leans over to grind herbs for concoctions, could discern when she fidgets from shyness versus discomfort, but he still doesn't know her favorite color or food or how to greet her in her mother tongue. He needs to be _better._ He feels it in his bones as a constant, but more acutely now.

He finds her in Shirasagi Castle during one of his envoy visits, while passing through the narrow wooden halls, taking advantage of a brief respite from one of the many meetings with Ryoma and his advisers. The thin sliding doors of the estate are open to the cool morning air, providing a stunning view of the castle gardens made lush and bright from the early spring blooms.

He falters when he sees a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye, turns to see familiar tendrils of hair moving in time with the swaying fronds.

She is facing mostly away from him, settled comfortably into the grass by a few clusters of hydrangeas, her legs folded neatly beneath her. Next to her lies a messy stack of what looks like old parchment, and he can barely make out the faint blush staining her cheeks. A dreamy sigh escapes her lips, eyelids fluttering closed.

"Sakura?"

She lets out a surprised yelp and turns abruptly, sees him leaning against the sliding paper door. She drops the paper in her hands, exhaling deeply. "L-Leo! I-I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, o-or see you-"

"No, no. I didn't mean to startle you," he says. Then, impishly, "Are you quite well?"

"Yes! Yes, I-I'm fine," she says hastily, tucking the pages in her hands into the sleeve of her robe. "Just... Just going through some things. How are you? How is your visit to Hoshido, I-I mean, your meetings-"

"They're going well, thank you. What kind of things?"

"U-um." She gestures meekly to the stack, as if they are self-explanatory. "W-well. They're letters."

"Is it personal?" he asks. _Should I back off,_ is what he means, but she shakes her head, and he steps down from the wooden walkway to join her with careful steps.

"They're from my father," she explains, "the love letters he wrote to Queen Mikoto. While they were courting."

"Ah." _Mikoto_. Both a prominent political figure and cold reminder of how her loss tore both of their families apart. Sakura had mentioned the Queen's room had remained untouched throughout the course of the war, but with Ryoma's recent ascension, a cleaning must have been in order.

He nods towards the stack imploringly, and Sakura blinks in surprise. "D-do you want to see them?"

"If you don't mind, certainly."

He settles next to her, and she draws the letters from her sleeve to hand to him. He unfolds one smoothly, pressing the worn edges carefully.

His heartbeat still quickens as he scans the contents of the letter, feels heat creeping up the back of his neck. This _is_ extremely personal, certainly not for a Nohrian prince's eyes.

Sakura seems unbothered by this, her eyes fixed on his reaction excitedly. "This is very..." He struggles, wanting to do it justice. "Poetic," he settles on, lamely.

Sakura laughs. "Hopefully. My father worked v-very hard on them, I think... Courting must take a lot of effort."

Leo purses his lips. He sincerely doubts any effort on _his_ father's part; the man attracted people-pleasers like flies to vinegar. Xander assured him it was his father's "great capacity to love" that lead to such indiscretions, but for there to have been so many... It surely meant spreading his attention too thin for sentimentality.

He thumbs through a few more. "They read beautifully, Sakura, despite what is likely my own poor judgment."

A puzzled look. "D-do you not care for poetry, Leo?"

"I wouldn't say that; rather, I don't understand it. I was bred to be a soldier and prince, first and foremost. The arts were never a priority."

Sakura's eyes soften. "You don't need to study to write what you feel, Leo. No one excels from the start."

He smiles wryly. "I could never hope to be so skilled, I'm afraid. To convey feelings artfully takes a certain prowess I lack. Your father had a talent. You should be very proud."

Sakura quiets for a moment, before meeting his gaze, fingers fidgeting. "Would... You like to see my father's first letters? I think you'll f-find them... Um. Interesting."

There is something mirthful in her voice as it hitches on the last word, and Leo raises a questioning brow. She reaches into the pile, shuffles through them for a few moments, before plucking out one notably stained yellow with age. She holds it out, eyes probing.

He takes it, carefully unfolds it, and surprise crosses his face at the header. "To Ikona."

"My mother," she says quietly.

Leo admittedly does not know much about King Sumiragi's first wife beyond old reports where the royal family crops up intermittently. More importantly, he does not know if it is a sore topic for Sakura, despite bringing it up herself.

Unsure, he settles on a comfortable silence and lowers his gaze to the text.

Almost immediately he chokes.

 

 

> _Your_ **eyes** are like **bumblebees** ,  
>            f _lying into the **windows** of my soul,_  
>  _Your **hair** is like the wings of **sparrows** -  
>            **red** ones, with no feathers -_  
>  _Oh speak, and send the plucked wings of your lips_ **soaring** -

 

He clears his throat. "This can't be real."

"I didn't think so either, b-but the seal is genuine, and so is the handwriting..."

"Your mother... She married your father."

"Y-yes... She did."

"Asking why would be rude. My apologies." He skims the rest, and turns to look at her, stone-faced. "Why?"

Sakura giggles, taking the letter back from him and folding it neatly, placing it in the pile. "Yukimura said he watched him hand it to her. He t-told me that when he did, he was shaking like a leaf!"

"And she... Enjoyed it?"

"Very much," says Sakura. She looks down at the letter fondly. "His sincerity must have m-moved her. At least, that's what I was told."

Leo hums. "I suppose he is indisputable proof that anyone can improve."

"Oh, of course! I mean, he wrote almost e-every day. It wasn't _always_ good, b-but he did it with all his heart," she says. "The content doesn't matter... So long as you write honestly. I think that's enough."

His lips quirk.

"So, um," she continues, cheeks flushing and avoiding his gaze, "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Leo. I-if you court anyone, it's okay... Not to be good at writing. A-as long as you try your hardest..."

"If I court anyone with that method," jokes Leo, "I fear it would still be dreadful enough to send them running to Nohr."

Sakura's smile falters. "Running _to_ Nohr? But wouldn't you court someone _in_ -"

"Prince Leo."

The two turn - Sakura squeaks in surprise - to see Takumi standing by the sliding doors, eyeing them both distastefully.

"Prince Takumi," he says, rising from his seat.

"King Xander requests your presence to resume your meeting. I'm really not thrilled to be your family's messenger boy."

"Noted," he says simply, brushing himself off. Sakura moves to stand, too, but he waves at her nonchalantly. "No, please, don't concern yourself, Sakura-"

" _Princess_ Sakura," interjects Takumi.

"-I'll be sure to find you again before my brother and I embark for Nohr," he finishes.

"Um, okay." She tugs at the sleeve of her robes again as he strolls back towards the sliding doors. Then, as he steps onto the wooden platform, pipes up, "Leo-"

He turns around, questioningly.

"If you, um, would ever like a proof-reader, I would b-be happy to read your poems. Maybe I c-could help?"

His eyebrows shoot up.

She immediately backpedals, beet-red. "U-um, y-you don't have to, I mean, if it's too p-private! I just like writing, so I thought I c-could help you maybe, b-but-"

"Sakura."

She trails off, blinks up at him.

"If I ever write a love letter, I promise you'll be the _first_ person I show."

A slow smile spreads across her face, until she's beaming.

Takumi ushers him impatiently past the gardens' enclosure, making their way down the long adjacent hallway, and then nudges him, smirking. "You _really_ going to show her a bunch of shoddy poems to edit, Prince? Wouldn't that be, I don't know, utterly and completely _mortifying_?"

The corners of his mouth lift. "Asking someone to proof-read them _would_ be rather embarrassing, wouldn't it?"

"Don't get her hopes up, then. She's a real sap for that stuff."

"Rather, I'd hand them over as-is. Unedited, straightforward. It's more sincere that way, don't you think?"

"Yeah, sure. Glad we're on the same page."

They are certainly not, Leo thinks, but best he leaves the conversation at that.

**Author's Note:**

> get it?? because takumi doesn't realize he's going to give them to HER, ba dum tssss
> 
> (it's been a while, i have to regenerate my funnies)
> 
> So. Belladonna. I clearly took some liberties with Leo's mother. We know very little about the royal children's mothers beyond Camilla's account of them vying for Garon's favor through their children, and that there were other royal children who died as a result of this power struggle. There's some really interesting fan content you can look up on Youtube under "Concubine Wars" that explores this period of time from the perspective of a young Camilla.
> 
> I took the bad poem from Dragon Age 2. 
> 
> I'm sorry if there are any mistakes, it's like 3 am and I'm super jetlagged, yell at me on Tumblr to fix anything. good night


End file.
